


Party For One

by kiite



Category: One Piece
Genre: Drinking, Gen, just like a touch of angst, zeff is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 19:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20747768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiite/pseuds/kiite
Summary: Sanji celebrates his first birthday aboard the Going Merry.





	Party For One

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of this fic imagine sanji was 18 when he left the Baratie and turned 19 sometimes during the crew’s adventures in the first half of the grand line (maybe around like Skypiea era)
> 
> Thanks to my super wonderful amazing beta TricksterMel

_ Goddamnit, _ Sanji thought to himself angrily as he rummaged through the rations,  _ that shitty moss-head better not have found it. I’ll kill him. _

Sanji wouldn’t consider himself a frequent drinker. The most alcohol he consumed on average was whatever he had added to the dish he was tasting that day. The cook rarely found himself wanting to drink, and even when he was struck by the urge, it was in moderation. He had a tendency towards awful hangovers, but he would  _ always _ wake up at five in the morning, no matter what. It had only taken him a few wild nights to decide that the cost wasn’t worth whatever he might feel the night before.

But tonight, he threw all that out the window. Sanji didn’t have the presence of mind to think about how he’d feel tomorrow— or maybe he just didn’t care. He couldn’t say for sure. The only thing he’d been able to think about all day was just that: the day itself. March 2nd— his birthday.

He sighed in relief as his fingers closed on the neck of a familiar bottle. It wasn’t the fanciest champagne— dear Nami-swan would certainly have his head over a frivolous expense like that— but it was  _ his,  _ for nights like this. As he made his way over to the sink to pop the cork, he thanked whatever gods might be listening that the idiot swordsman hadn’t sniffed it out.

It wasn’t that he hated his birthday; his feelings were far too complex to describe with a single word like “hate” or “love”. He had good memories surrounding the day, thanks to Zeff, and he had bad memories, courtesy of Judge and his brothers. But for the past nine years, Sanji had never left the Baratie, and in turn, hadn’t spent his birthday away from the shitty geezer.

Filling a glass with champagne, Sanji took a seat on the bench of the table and recalled his past eight birthdays. His first one with Zeff, his eleventh birthday, stuck out in his mind. Their relationship had still been pretty new, and Sanji had been trying to figure out how exactly Zeff felt about him (would he be thrown out if he messed up too many times)? He was grateful to the man— not grateful,  _ indebted— _ but he couldn’t help his fear that this too would be temporary.

Sanji had told Zeff his birthday when asked; it was one of the few details of his birth Sanji felt he could disclose. The apprentice chef had been surprised when Zeff had actually remembered.  _ Congrats on making it another year, kid,  _ he had said. Something about that wording had struck the cook so deeply that he remembered it clearly to this day.

Zeff had offered to show Sanji how to make anything he wanted, so they could make it together. While not a pastry chef by trade, Zeff always conceded to Sanji’s usually pastry-based requests. For his eleventh birthday, they made macarons; Sanji couldn’t seem to recall what flavor, only the sense of lightness in his chest at catching Zeff’s proud smile out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t even upset when most of his fell apart, because Zeff examined the ones that were still standing and complimented all the things he’d done well.

All of his birthdays aboard the Baratie were like that. There were no grand gestures— those were not commonplace aboard the floating restaurant, with Sanji’s departure being perhaps the first and last— just pleasant days with the old man and the staff that left him with warm, fond memories.  _ Much _ more than he could say for the years before.

Most of Sanji’s memories of his time in Germa were lost to him, both because he was far too young to remember, and because he actively didn’t  _ want  _ to remember it. From what he could recall, there was a time when his birthday was as neat and uniform as everything else in the kingdom, celebrating right alongside his brothers. But as time went on, and everyone began to realize his shortcomings, Sanji was slowly pushed to the outer edge. Memories of his later birthdays in Germa feel as though he was a stranger watching from outside a window. 

Then of course there was his eighth birthday, which he spent in a cage, struggling to keep his head aloft from the weight of the iron mask, while the distant sounds of festivity drifted in from somewhere above him— and the guards never came to feed him that day— they were probably busy, after all, the princes’ birthday was a big deal— well,  _ most  _ of the princes—

Realizing that he was spiraling quickly, Sanji let that train of thought leave him behind as he disregarded his glass in favor of grabbing the bottle by the neck. In a move that he wouldn’t have even considered if he was in the company of others, Sanji brought the bottle to his lips and chugged a good third of it. Setting it back on the table with a little more force than he intended, the cook let his head rest on the table, turned away from the door.

Sanji wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, cheek pressed into the wood as he tried to keep his mind empty. At some point he’d emptied another third of the bottle, but he didn’t really remember drinking it. Even as the door to the galley creaked open, and footsteps padded across the room towards him, Sanji didn’t budge. Only when his captain’s curious face ducked into his field of vision did Sanji make any sort of noise.

“Don’t even bother trying to raid the fridge, Captain,” Sanji mumbled, trying to muster a smirk, “I’m not asleep yet.”

Luffy didn’t seem to have any interest in food at the moment— that was a first. He was looking at his crew mate, a thoughtful expression on his face as he frowned. “Sanjiiiii,” Luffy whined, reaching out to poke Sanji’s face, “What’s wrong?”

Sanji reached up to swat away Luffy’s hand before he could make contact. “Dunno what you mean,” he replied unconvincingly, fully aware his captain would see right through it. Luffy jumped up and sat on the edge of the table, swinging his legs absentmindedly as he looked at Sanji. He would have berated the rubber man for sitting where they eat, but he didn’t have the energy.

“Sanji,” Luffy said, much more serious this time. “You’ve been weird all day.”

With a sigh, Sanji picked his face up from the table and eyed the bottle in his hand. He spun it around slowly, watching the liquid twirl. “It’s my birthday,” he admitted reluctantly, knowing Luffy wouldn’t leave until Sanji was honest with him.

As expected, Luffy perked up, his eyes widening. “What!?” he exclaimed, leaning far into Sanji’s personal space bubble, something Sanji was accustomed to by now. “Why didn’t you tell us! Don’t you want a birthday cake?”

“Even if I did want a cake, I would have had to bake it,” Sanji deadpanned, though he had to admit that Luffy’s carefree nature was a welcome distraction. 

“Oh,” Luffy said, realizing Sanji was right. The rest of the crew had been banned from using anything in the kitchen long ago. “Well, birthdays can be sad, too.”

Sanji eyed his captain curiously, releasing the bottle from his grip. “Yeah?” he questioned, not expecting that from Luffy. 

Luffy nodded, still swinging his legs. “Yeah. I get really sad on somebody’s birthday.” He turned to look out the porthole, watching the dark sea. “It’s getting kind of close, actually.”

They fell into silence after that. Sanji could tell that he shouldn’t prod any further, and that Luffy would do the same for him. Sanji tried to picture his captain genuinely sad. He couldn’t. After a little while, Luffy turned back to his cook and cracked a smile so bright it seemed to light up the dark galley. 

“You can be sad if you want to, Sanji,” Luffy assured him, grin never fading, “but don’t do it alone. We’re nakama!” He stretched his arm out and wound it around Sanji, pulling him into an unconventional hug.

Unable to suppress his laughter, Sanji gently pushed away from his captain. “Alright, alright, I get it. I won’t do it again. Now let me go, before you crush me to death.”

Luffy retracted his arm and bounced out of the room, laughing as the cook called after him not to wake up the entire men’s bunk. Looking back at the bottle of champagne, Sanji jammed the cork back in and shelved it in the wine rack before following his captain out of the galley. He’d save the rest for another night.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for readin my first one piece fic >:^3
> 
> thanks again to Mel for making this comprehensible


End file.
